Suppressed Desires
by Starlight257
Summary: When Harry realises that being the captain of Gryffindor quidditch team is difficult, who can he turn to for help? And what happens when his suppressed desires and those of another are finally revealed? Harry/Oliver. SLASH.


Disclaimer: Everything related to the Harry Potter series remains the sole property of the author.

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**Suppressed Desires**

Slamming the door, he strode over to the beaten desk and threw himself onto the torn red material of the chair that stood behind it.

His hands came up to hold his face as his elbows rested heavily on his thighs, water falling in streams from his hair and robes and onto the stone floor. His quidditch robes, previously a vibrant red, were now a deep maroon after absorbing an absurd amount of rain during the short training session.

Harry moaned softly, the sound muffled because his hands covered the majority of his mouth, as he once more considered his quidditch team.

Gryffindor, under Harry's leadership as captain, had looked as if nothing could stop them in the first few weeks of the inter-house tournament. With Ginny guiding the chasers and Ron doing an outstanding job as keeper, Harry had fully expected to win every match and claim the cup this year without any problems.

But now Katie, one of the last remaining original members of the team, was at St. Mungo's after having encountered a near deadly necklace, and was recovering slowly. This had meant that Harry had needed to introduce Dean Thomas into the team, creating some tension amongst the chasers due to Dean and Ginny's failed relationship. And Ron, having proven himself in previous matches as an excellent keeper, was now in the hospital ward after being poisoned by a bottle of mead in Slughorn's office. This had meant that Harry had been forced to allow Cormac McLaggen to take the place of Gryffindor keeper, much to the annoyance of both himself and the rest of the team.

And now, after such high expectations, Harry fully expected the Gryffindor quidditch team to not only place last in the tournament, but to lose so badly that the embarrassment alone would probably stop him from playing quidditch for the remainder of his school years. And being captain, all the blame for such a poor performance would fall squarely upon his shoulders.

In a desperate attempt to put up a fight in the upcoming match against Hufflepuff, Harry had scheduled practice every day this week. He had hoped that, with a great deal of hard work, he just might be able to prevent an _extremely_ humiliating loss and therefore have a chance at catching up once Ron and Katie returned. But he still did not know when that time would arrive, and there were no signs indicating that it would be soon.

Rather than helping however, these extra practice sessions had seen the team fall apart at a much faster rate, with tempers running high due in the most part to the loud, foolish attempts to direct the team made by Cormac. And after only twenty minutes of practice today, Harry had decided to call the session off not due to the storm which was currently raging outside, but due to the high and ever increasing probability of an all-out brawl erupting midair.

And so now all Harry could do was sit in his office, thinking, while the others showered and changed into warm, dry clothes before they returned to the castle. Freezing cold droplets continued to fall from his hair and robes, adding to the large puddle that was gradually spreading across the floor. His skin was white due to the cold, and his limbs felt numb and lifeless. He let his hands drop away from his face and fall to his sides, leaning his head back so that he was now looking at the ceiling, and emitting a low groan.

"What's wrong Potter, a little bit of rain too much for the Gryffindor team to handle?"

This deep voice startled Harry, who swung his head down quickly to look at the smiling figure leaning casually against the door post, arms crossed over his chest. Oliver Wood was taller than Harry, and his body was heavily muscled, broad shoulders tapering down to a flat stomach and powerful thighs.

"Oliver! What are you doing here?"

"Well I'm actually only here for the day, so I decided to come down and watch the team practice. But _apparently_ things have changes since I left. If _I_ was captain, my team would still be out there on the pitch, not dashing up to the safety of the castle." Harry remembered Oliver's training sessions vividly, held at all hours of the day and in any weather. They had been awful, but in retrospect he was now forced to admit that they had made a great difference.

Standing up and crossing the room, Harry seized one of Oliver's hands and shook it firmly; gesturing with his other for Oliver to take the seat that was not dripping with water. Harry resumed his seat at the desk and once more looked to Oliver.

"Well, to tell you the truth," he began, his voice slipping from pleasantly surprised to slightly depressed and guilty, "the team's not looking good at the moment. Two of our best players have been taken to the hospital ward and St. Mungo's, and their replacements are causing so many problems I'd be very surprised if we make it to the weekend without another player being seriously injured."

Harry smiled half-heartedly at Oliver, who was looking rather stunned at this news. Not wanting to be lectured about it being his job as captain to hold the team together, Harry quickly moved the conversation in a new direction before Oliver had a chance to comment.

"But you don't need to hear about my problems. If I can't handle the situation, then I really shouldn't have been made captain in the first place. What about you? How has Puddlemere United been doing?"

Distracted for a moment, Oliver launch into a description of the team and how he was getting on.

"It's brilliant, Harry. Really good. Everyone on the team is just so amazing. I've never been on a team with so many talented players, but then again this _is_ the first professional team I've ever played for. And the way our captain tells it, our team is going to have to practice really hard before we can even have a hope of defeating the Chudley Cannons in the upcoming match. But of course, I am only the reserve keeper, so there's nowhere near as much pressure on me as there is on the others. All the same, I've been working out and practicing more than anyone, and hopefully it'll show in my performance. I really want to play on the team."

Oliver's eyes seemed to glaze over as he thought of his new team and dreamed of playing in front of roaring crowds. Harry, meanwhile, was observing Oliver and could tell just from looking at him that he had been putting in a lot of work. Even at school he had been quite burly, but now his muscles were bulging and the tight jeans he wore along with his navy blue Puddlemere robes did nothing to disguise this.

"It really shows," said Harry, bringing Oliver out of his daze. Harry smiled and thought he saw Oliver blush slightly, but he wasn't sure.

"Um... yeah, thanks. But about the Gryffindor team." Oliver hastily changed the subject. "What are you doing to stop us losing?"

Harry's smile grew as he noticed that Oliver still considered himself a part of the team. "Well I've scheduled practice every day this week, but that doesn't appear to be working. If anything," and Harry's smile disappeared almost entirely at this point, "it's only made things worse." There was a short pause before Harry spoke again, his tone dejected. "I'm a rubbish captain. They shouldn't have chosen me. It's because of me that Gryffindor is going to lose the cup this year."

Oliver stared at Harry until the younger boy raised his head and their eyes met. He could see the sadness in those sparkling green orbs, a sadness which he had himself felt many times after losing a quidditch match. He had often become depressed after suffering a major loss, and remembered once having tried to drown himself in the showers. He couldn't let Harry feel that way. It just wasn't fair.

Harry turned his face away, ashamed of his failed attempts to captain a winning team. This was the person who had introduced him to quidditch, and the best he could do to show his appreciation was to lose the tournament for Gryffindor for the first time in years. His body was shivering and his teeth chattered audibly, however he seemed not to notice and continued to stare blankly away from his former captain.

Oliver continued to stare at Harry, noticing the significant increase in muscle since he had last seen him two years ago. He also noticed, for the first time since entering the room, just how pale Harry was, his usually creamy skin now more closely resembling white marble. The colour had left his face and his once pink lips were now a pale blue.

"Harry, you must be freezing! You're still soaking wet and it's already cold enough in here as it is. Don't put off your shower on my account." With these words he pulled Harry from his chair and all but pushed him out the door towards the showers before leaving him to shower in peace. Harry moved numbly towards the showers, his limbs aching with the cold.

He assumed that Oliver would be waiting for him up at the castle once he had finished, ready to offer him some advice or lecture him on some other point. He turned the shower tap and a stream of hot water washed over him, running through his hair and down his body, which was still covered by the robes he had not bothered to remove. Steam rose from his robes as the water seeped through them and made contact with his icy skin.

He stood like this for a number of minuted, revelling in the warmth and comfort. Then he slowly removed his robes, throwing them carelessly over towards the benches before turning back to face the stream of hot water. Ribbons of warmth coiled around his limbs and chest, following the grooves of his abs and running down his firm legs. His hands moved along his sides as he sought to massage the warmth into his flesh, heating his bones.

An image of Oliver, standing underneath a shower and rubbing his strong hands along his firm muscles, came unbidden into Harry's mind. Harry watched with his eyes closed as Oliver traced patterns down his chest and one hand moved slowly down towards his soft member. He grasped it and pulled gently, moaning softly and shuddering at the touch.

Harry subconsciously mirrored this dream image's movements, his own hand coming to rest upon his now semi-hard cock and massaging softly as he continued to watch Oliver. The older boy's cock grew and his pumping rhythm sped up, his hips now thrusting into his hand and his moaning increasing in volume. Harry followed, his own moans echoing off the tiled walls until eventually his lips formed them involuntarily into a single word. One name.

"Oliver."

"Oliver."

"_Oliver._"

And with a final, loud shout, Harry came into his own hand, the evidence quickly washing away with the water that continued to pour from above. He blinked his eyes open, reached forward and turned the tap to end the flow. Now thoroughly warmed, he walked over to the benches and grabbed one of the soft white towels that lay there. Wrapping this tightly about his waist, he made his way towards the office, going over what had just happened in his mind.

He had always seen Oliver as attractive, ever since he had first seen the older boy in the showers after one of his first quidditch matches. He had also noticed on more than one occasion the shape of the other boy's bodies as they too showered, but Oliver in particular had captured his attention. He had even fantasised about him at night sometimes while in bed, but that hadn't happened for years.

Passing through the doorway and into the office, he moved the towel over his body and dried himself before letting it drop to the floor. As he began to move towards the place where his dry school robes were stored, he noticed that there was somebody in the room with him. He spun around and came face to face with a grinning Oliver, clad only in a pair of red boxers.

"I was waiting for you to finish so that I could offer you some advice, maybe point you in the right direction. But then I heard you calling my name, and I couldn't resist having a look. _Beautiful_ performance." His smile widened impossibly as his eyes travelled over Harry's body.

Harry looked down and blushed, remembering that he had no clothes on and that he had discarded the towel which had at least hidden his lower half. He moved his hands to cover himself but was stopped in his attempts as two strong hands seized his arms and held them to his sides.

Oliver was now only inches away from Harry, who was blushing even more profusely at the contact. He looked up and saw a hungry glint in Oliver's dark eyes.

"Oliver, I'm so sorr-"

"No Harry, don't apologise. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I know you want me, and I want you to know that... I want you too." With that, he released Harry and circled his own strong arms around the smaller boy's waist, bring their bodies together. He then leant forwards and brushed his lips against Harry's, trailing his tongue along his lower lip.

Seeing Harry's shocked expression, he moved one hand up and held the back of Harry's head, crushing their lips together in another searing kiss. Harry's lips parted and Oliver thrust his tongue into Harry's warm mouth, his tongue moving deeper and entwining with the other boys.

As the kiss deepened, Oliver pulled their bodies closer together, grinding his silk clad erection against Harry's exposed skin and eliciting a soft whimpering noise form the smaller boy. The kiss broke as Harry gasped, stunned due to the delicious friction created by such a simple action. Oliver smiled wickedly before using his tongue to trace the line of Harry's jaw, leaving behind a cool trail of saliva on Harry's heated skin.

"But – But..." Harry was having trouble forming a sentence as Oliver continued to lick down the side of his face. "What do you mean?"

Oliver pulled away, looking Harry straight in the eye. "I _want _you, Harry. Ever since you first joined the team, I've wanted to touch you. To feel you. But I didn't. I couldn't. It just... just wasn't right to make a move, what with me being older than you and your captain as well." His smile was gentle as he maintained eye contact.

"Oh," was all that Harry could say.

"But now that I know that you feel the same way, that you want me, I can't hold back these desires. These feelings. I need to let go." His voice was filled with lust and he once again crushed their lips together, and this time Harry responded with equal enthusiasm.

He grasped Oliver's broad shoulders as Oliver moved his hands down to rest on Harry's exposed arse, giving a firm squeeze before grinding their erections together. Harry moaned into Oliver's mouth, breathing in the warmth and wetness.

Oliver, his hands still on Harry's arse, moved both of them towards the desk in the centre of the room. Harry felt the solid edge of the desk against the back of his knees and suddenly he was lying on the desk, completely exposed and vulnerable. He looked up into the eyes of the figure towering above him, noting the desire expressed in his every feature. Oliver smiled and dropped out of sight.

Harry stared at the spot where Oliver had been just seconds ago, raising his head to see what had happened. Before he could however, a wave of pleasure seemed to crash over him and his head slammed back onto the hard surface of the desk with an audible crack. Oliver had closed his lips around the head of Harry's cock and was now swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh, tasting the precome which was leaking from the tip.

"Ahhh..." Harry's moan of pleasure trailed off into silence, and he could hear the sound of his heart hammering deafeningly in his ears.

Oliver, encouraged by this obvious sign of enjoyment, moved his head further down the legnth, his lips taking in more and more of the stiff rod. After a few seconds, he felt the head of Harry's cock touch the back of his throat and he moved backwards, bobbing up and down at a steady pace. His tongue continued to swirl around the flesh and he savoured the unique taste of Harry on his tongue.

Harry felt as if he would black out from the overwhelming feelings flooding through him. He could hear the wet sound of Oliver's mouth on his skin, and let out another louder, more urgent moan. He could feel the release building and knew that he was seconds away from spilling his load into Oliver's mouth.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the sensation stopped, and Harry let out a whimper filled with desperation and disappointment. He had been so close, and yet was now denied completion.

He heard Oliver chuckle softly and raised his head to see the other boy on his knees before the desk. "Couldn't let you finish just yet Harry. The best is still to come." And with a final smirk he disappeared again.

And once again, Harry slammed his head back onto the surface of the desk, his lips parted in shock. Oliver's talented tongue was now tracing Harry's entrance, his saliva cooling the heated skin. Harry couldn't believe what was happening, closing his eyes and holding back a scream as Oliver pushed inside.

He pushed his tongue all the way in, stretching Harry's hole before pulling out and thrusting back in. Harry was gripping the sides of the desk with his hands, his knuckles white as he held on with all his strength. Oliver increased the speed of his thrusts; his warm, wet tongue penetrating Harry's searing entrance over and over again. The passage was now slick and slightly stretched; however it still remained remarkably tight.

Harry arched his back up off the desk, trying to thrust back onto Oliver's tongue. But Oliver had decided that he was ready, and pulled away, once again leaving Harry unsatisfied. Harry saw the tall, muscled figure rise from between his open legs. Oliver slid his boxers off and threw them carelessly to the ground. For the first time, Harry saw Oliver's cock at full height, standing erect and throbbing.

Unable to help himself, Harry gasped at the size, his mind telling him that it would never fit inside him, that it was impossible. Oliver smiled at Harry before looking down at his own cock and taking it in one hand. He lined the head of his thick cock up with Harry's entrance and held it there.

As he spoke, Harry could hear the humour in his voice as well as the lust that connected them. "They don't call me `Wood' for nothing Harry. So," and here his smile turned into a smirk, "are you ready to ride this? _Ride me?_"

Harry laughed nervously. "Um... yes?"

Oliver's eyes glinted mischievously before he pushed inside, the head of his cock passing through the tight ring of muscle and continuing deeper.

"Aaaah." Harry could feel a burning pain as the large rod penetrated him, filling him completely and then moving deeper still. He closed his eyes, concentrating on enduring the pain that he knew would soon turn to pleasure. Strong hands came down and held Harry's hips firmly in place as Oliver's maddeningly slow thrust continued.

The heat and tightness were intense, and Oliver could not hold back a moan of pleasure as he was finally sheathed entirely within Harry. "Mmm..." He forced himself to remain still while Harry adjusted to his size. He had to exercise every ounce of self control he possessed to do this, and the seconds dragged by slowly.

Harry felt the pain diminish slightly as he grew accustomed to the intrusion, but the burning continued to fill his mind. He needed Oliver to move. He needed friction. He needed relief.

"Please O – Oliver," he panted, " Move!"

Oliver heard Harry's breathless voice and obeyed, drawing out almost all the way before slamming back into Harry with such force that the desk below them screeched across the tiled floor.

"Aaaah." This time Harry's cry was not of pain but of overwhelming pleasure as Oliver's hard cock brushed against his prostate. He felt full and his back arched up off the desk. Olive pushed Harry back down with his hands firmly grasping his hips. Then he began a fast, powerful rhythm of thrusting into the heat that was Harry.

The room was filled with the moaning of both boys as well as the sound of skin colliding with skin, hard muscle meeting hard muscle. Oliver directed his cock with Harry's moans guiding him, and soon he was hitting his prostate with every thrust.

He looked down at Harry spread before him, his green eyes sparkling up at him full of lust and passion. This sight left him breathless, the pure beauty and raw emotion of the experience tangible in the air around the two boys. He leaned down and covered Harry's lips with his own, biting and sucking as muffled moans escaped from Harry's mouth. The kiss was rough and quick, and broke as Oliver pulled away so that he could once more concentrate on his rhythm.

"Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh."

His loud grunting was only penetrated by desperate words and exclamations

"Harry... Ugh. _Fuck_, so fucking... Ugh ... hot."

"Uhh... Fuck. I – I'm gonna... Uhh."

"Ugh. Yeah Harry. _Ugh. _Come for me. _Ugh_."

"O... Oliver. Mmm... I'm – _I'm Cumming!"_

And with that, he exploded, his seed shooting from his cock onto both his own and Oliver's abs.

Oliver, with the image of Harry's orgasm before him and the clenching of Harry's tight arse around his cock, climaxed too, shooting his seed deep into Harry. His thrusting slowed and became uneven as Harry's arse milked the last few drops from his cock, and then he collapsed onto the boy beneath him.

Each lay there, silent, listening to the beating of the others heart and the sound of their heavy breathing echoing off the tiled walls. For several minutes they remained like this, their bodies joined as one and moving as one, rising and falling together.

Oliver opened his eyes, which he had shut due to the intensity of his orgasm, and saw Harry gazing back at him, satisfied and content. Oliver rose from the desk, extending a hand and helping Harry to his feet. Harry looked down and saw the mess dried on his chest and then looked back up at Oliver.

"Well, looks like I'll be having another shower." He strode past Oliver without another word, his footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. Oliver stood there, slightly stunned at the abruptness of Harry's departure, unable to speak.

And then the footsteps stopped, and Oliver turned to see Harry standing in the doorway facing away from him, his head turned to the side so that he could look over his shoulder.

"Well?" His voice was calm and even. "Aren't you going to join me?" He turned and walked into the showers. Oliver watched Harry, his arse moving sinfully and the muscles of his back rippling with each step. Then he laughed softly to himself, his smile widening, and raced after Harry.

The End

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I really hope that you have enjoyed this story.

Comments, feedback and reviews are all very much appreciated.

Starlight257.


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